


Angel of Christmas

by purgatoan



Series: 12 Days of Destiel [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, Blow Jobs, Dean wants to get a tattoo, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Mentions of Blood, Only regarding to tattoing, Pierced Castiel, Sassy Castiel, Tattoo Artist Castiel, Tattooed Castiel, mentions of needles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-09 05:30:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8877808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purgatoan/pseuds/purgatoan
Summary: Dean didn’t know that getting a tattoo could end this way, but he didn’t dare complain, quite the opposite.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for 12 Days of Christmas Challenge | @waywardlullabies | Day 6
> 
> Prompt: Decorating and Sweaters
> 
> Beta: @spin-the-birdie on Tumblr (thank you so much, darling!)
> 
> Thanks to @hideyourdemoneyes for helping me come up with Cas' tattoos and piercings. You're awesome, Dee!
> 
> It’s the sixth out of 12 Destiel pieces I’ll be publishing daily, from December 14th to 25th, as a Christmas Celebration.
> 
> First time writing tattoo parlor!AU!

Deciding to get a tattoo a day before Christmas Eve wasn’t exactly a good idea. 

It turned out that most of the studios were already closed, but Dean really wanted to get this one on his skin as soon as possible. That’s why he kept walking around town and looking for an open tattoo parlor.

His ink was supposed to be a simple symbol: a white pentagram in a circle of flames, all in black. Dean wasn’t exactly sure why he wanted this pattern, it just came to his mind one day and he couldn’t let it go. He even drew it on a piece of paper, so the tattoo artist would be sure as to what he wanted, discovering - by the way - that he was quite good at drawing.

So there he was, with a crumbled piece of paper in his glove-clad hands, running around town as it was snowing heavily, probably looking like an idiot. Everyone was surely at home already, considering that the weather was worse than crappy, but he wouldn’t back out now.

Lucky for Dean, his sight found a tattoo studio on the corner of the street; a blue neon OPEN shone through the snowflakes.

He crossed the street and got inside the building, sighing once he felt the warm air enveloping him like a fuzzy blanket. He immediately took off his jacket and hung it right beside the door, freezing in spot when his gaze landed in the corner of the room.

Someone was standing on a ladder and hanging Christmas Chains on the wall. The person’s sweater had ridden up due to the movement, revealing tanned skin covered with blue, white and black ink. It was difficult to say what the tattoo was presenting, but it was beautiful nonetheless.

He felt even more warmth spread inside his body as the person turned around, probably alarmed by the door bell that had rung just a second ago.

The man’s face was mesmerizing. His lips were full and pink, slightly chapped like he’d been worrying them between his teeth once in awhile. The blue in his eyes reminiscing the depth of the ocean, threatening to consume Dean whole. There was a septum under the stranger’s nose, making the perfectly-sculpted cheekbones even more prominent.

“Hello, can I help you?” the stranger asked with a soft smile, stepping off the ladder.

“Well, I hope so,” Dean stuttered out, struck with how handsome the man was, “I mean, I’d like to get a tattoo,” he added shyly.

“You couldn’t have chosen a better place, then,” the man said joyfully, rolling up the sleeves of the black sweater he was wearing, revealing another tattoo, but this time on his left forearm. It was a rosary, looking like it was wrapped around the stranger’s hand, the beads dark blue, “I’m Castiel, but you can call me Cas. I own this place,” he admitted with confidence, then extended his hand toward Dean.

“Awesome. My name’s Dean,” he responded, taking the man’s hand and giving it a firm shake, noticing with awe how Castiel’s muscles flexed in response.

“Nice to meet you, Dean,” Cas said, letting go of Dean’s hand, “Do you know what you want to get or do you want to discuss the pattern?” Castiel ran his hand through his dark hair, ruffling them even more than they already were.

“I drew something, do you think you could transfer it onto my skin?” Dean wondered, handing Cas the design he sketched up, feeling his cheeks heat up. 

“Wow. You’ve got some talent, man,” Castiel stated, taking in the symbol, “And, sure, it won’t take long to scan it and print a stencil. The same size as on the page?” he wondered, turning around with the piece of paper in his hands. He crossed the room in a few strides, sitting in front of the desk with computer on it, opening the scanner and putting the piece of paper in it.

“Yeah, the same. That’s great,” Dean let out, plopping onto the chair next to a coffee table, hoping he wasn’t acting weird. He didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of such a hot guy, that would be the worst thing that could happen to him.

He began strumming his fingers against his thigh, trying to calm himself down a bit. It wasn’t the first time he’s seen someone looking so perfect, why couldn’t he keep his nerves in check, then?

“Okay, we just have to wait a bit now,” Cas announced, spinning a bit on the chair so that he was facing Dean.

“Of course. So, how did you end up owning a tattoo studio?” Dean wondered, sincerely curious. 

Castiel smiled widely at that question, his white teeth flashing, then began, “It’s a long story, but I’ll try to make it quick,” as Dean nodded, he carried on, “I was supposed to take over my father’s company: building homes, room decor, all that stuff. I studied architecture for a bit, but it was boring, even though I knew how to draw and it made me really happy. So, I dropped out and took art instead, but still posed as the perfect son my parents wanted for some time,” he chuckled, leaning back in his chair.

“What changed? Why did you decide to…?” Dean trailed off, unable to put into words what he meant, but Castiel seemed to get what he was asking about.

“To fuck all the rules?” Castiel suggested, making Dean laugh in the process, “Honestly, I don’t have a good answer. I just know that one day I walked into home with a tattoo on my arm and a ring in my nose, giving no shit about what they were about to say. Of course, they had a lot to say, but, again, I didn’t care. They were limiting me for too long and I had to finally break free. So, after a heated argument, I packed all my things, got out of the house and never looked back. I found a job at one tattoo studio to pay off my student loans, but, soon, it became more than just a job. And that’s why I ended up with my own place, I wanted to be independent, to work on my own,” he explained, shrugging.

“I see. Well, good that you ended up doing what you dreamt of, right?” Dean wondered and Castiel nodded, turning his attention to the printer that started spitting out the stencil.

“Exactly. Okay, I’ve got the stencil, now I have to prepare the work place. Do you mind waiting here?” Cas asked, getting up from the chair.

“Not at all,” Dean responded, flashing the artist a grin.

“Great. Be back in a few,” Cas said, disappearing in the hallway, his steps echoing in the empty studio.

* * *

It didn’t take long before Castiel was back and gestured Dean to follow him. They walked to the end of the hallway and got into the last room on the right, the door plate saying: “Angel’s Heaven.”

“Angel’s Heaven?” Dean wondered as Castiel opened the door to let Dean in.

“Yes. People call me Angel since I started tattooing, mainly because of the fact that I’ve got wings tattooed on my back and also, not to brag, but I’m the expert if it comes to any ink with feathers,” he responded with confidence, taking off his sweater, leaving himself in a black tank top, showing off the perfectly-sculpted muscles.

Dean had to focus his gaze on something else, otherwise he would end up staring at Cas.

“That makes sense,” Dean’s gaze wandered around the room, taking in the walls that were covered with dozens and dozens of colorful and black sketches, only a bit of dark blue paint peeking from underneath them, “are all of those yours?”

“Yeah. I just have too many ideas and I need to transfer them onto the paper, otherwise I’d go mad,” he joked, setting a disinfectant, a few tattoo ink cups, paper towels and distilled water on the desk next to the tattoo chair, already wrapped in saran wrap, “where do you want this one to go?”

“What? Oh, right. I think I’d like this one on my chest, right here, ” Dean said, pointing to the left side of his chest, a bit above his heart.

“Okay. I need you to take off your shirt right now and come closer,” Castiel said, washing his hands in the sink, then dried them with a paper towel.

Dean couldn’t help but feel his cheeks heat up a bit as he pulled the black v-neck over his head and set it on the chair, then walked toward Cas and stopped right in front of him.

The artist put on black gloves and took the disposable razor, getting rid of the few hairs on Dean’s chest, his left hand resting on Dean’s skin as he swiftly moved the razor down. Dean hoped Castiel couldn’t feel how fast his heart was beating, it would be embarrassing to say at least. 

“Okay, now I’ll make sure the area is sterile,” Castiel mumbled, spraying the disinfectant onto Dean’s skin and wiping the excess with a paper towel, “it’s your first one, am I right?” he asked.

“My first what?” Dean wondered, feeling the coldness of the liquid.

“Your first ink,” Cas responded, pulling the paper towel away and gesturing for Dean to sit on the tattoo chair.

“Yeah. Is it that obvious?” Dean asked, putting his hands on the armrests.

“Only a bit. You seem nervous, but I assure you, there’s nothing to be afraid of. I popped lots of tattoo virgins’ cherries,” Castiel winked at Dean and took the stencil, placing it on the sanitized area, pressing slightly to make sure it would copy onto the skin.

Dean couldn’t help but blush, the man being so close to him that he could feel Castiel’s hot breath fanning over his skin. He finally had the chance to admire Cas’ beauty from up close, his forehead scrunched slightly in concentration, his eyelashes long and curled, making the blue irises pop even more.

As Cas removed his hand, Dean took a deep breath, noticing with satisfaction that the pattern looked exactly like the sketch he brought, nothing had been changed or tweaked. 

“Now we’ll let it sit for a bit so it doesn’t smudge when I start tattooing,” Castiel announced and Dean nodded, feeling Castiel’s gaze on him, taking in his body, making him squirm under Castiel’s predatory gaze.

But the moment was gone right after it started, as the artist turned his attention to the tattoo gun, picking it up and turning it on.

Quiet buzzing filled the room, making adrenaline shot through Dean’s bloodstream. He wasn’t scared, he dreamt of getting a tattoo for ages, he was just eager and excited to get it.

As Castiel got up and sat on a stool next to Dean, he locked his eyes with Dean’s, a silent question hanging in the air.

“Yeah, go ahead,” Dean let out with a smirk and Castiel leaned forward, pressing the tattoo gun to his chest. Dean had to actually look down to be sure that Castiel touched him, because he barely felt anything.

“How was that?” Castiel asked, smiling mischievously.

“Awesome,” Dean responded, flashing him a grin, “Go on.”

That was the only encouragement Castiel needed. He put the gun against Dean’s skin again, the needles injecting the ink, then wiped the blood that appeared. 

And that’s how it was going, he simply kept filling in the contours, stopping once in awhile to ask if Dean was doing okay. And, of course he was. He could keep staring at the beautiful man in front of him without the risk of getting caught, admiring his precision and delicacy as he was working on Dean’s skin. To be honest, he didn’t think he would ever feel better than in that exact moment.

The process didn’t take a lot of time, as Castiel didn’t have to do any shading or switch colors he was using, only dabbing the needles in black ink and wiping the little amount of blood once in awhile to give himself a clearer view.

He withdrew the tattoo gun eventually and turned it off, placing it on the stand.

“Okay, we’re all done,” Castiel announced cheerfully, “what do you think?” He wondered.

After taking a look at the tattoo, Dean couldn’t help but smile, “it’s exactly how I wanted it to look like.”

“I’m more than happy to hear that, Dean,” Castiel responded, taking some saran wrap and adhesive tape to cover the inked skin.

He was as gentle as with tattooing, his fingers softly smoothing the covered surface. Dean was mesmerized with how delicate Castiel was, he didn’t expect to find an artist so sweet and caring.

Then, Castiel looked up from his lashes at Dean, the look devilish, making Dean draw in a sharp breath. Suddenly, Castiel’s hands weren’t on the tattoo anymore, but moved upward slowly, Cas’ gaze focused on Dean, to make sure he was okay with what was happening.

“You know that, technically, I didn’t have to agree to tattoo you today?” Castiel asked, surprising Dean a bit, as Dean’s hands found their way onto Castiel’s neck, “I was supposed to close right after finishing hanging those chains, but when you walked in,” he stopped, letting out a chuckle, “Damn, I had to control myself so I wouldn’t jump your bones in that moment.” Castiel admitted, flashing Dean a smirk.

“So, it was all a setup? The tattoo, the talk,” Dean suggested, his eyebrows raised.

“Not entirely. You might call it that way. Hope I’m not too forward, but I don’t want this to be just one time thing. At least, I hope so. Do you mind that I lured you in, though?” Castiel wondered, leaning forward and worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Not at all,” Dean whispered, eyeing Cas’ face, hunger in his gaze.

“Good,” Castiel let out simply, licking his lips shamelessly, then claiming Dean’s lips with his.

Such a simple thing, but it felt so good that Dean couldn’t hold back a moan as he felt Castiel’s tongue slip inside his mouth, after he demanded entrance to which Dean obliged immediately. Something was different, though, and Dean figured it out not long after as Castiel’s tongue made contact with one of his teeth, clinking loudly.

Cas’ tongue was pierced as well.

The ball seemed to be made of some metal, as it was cold in Dean’s mouth, but it heated up fairly quickly when their tongues joined in a careful but passionate dance. Castiel seemed eager to feel as much of Dean as possible and sat on his lap, slowly grinding against Dean’s growing erection.

Castiel tasted like mint gum and something sweet, something that Dean couldn’t quite put his finger on, but he would die happily if it were to be the last thing he could ever taste. 

Dean couldn’t help but move his hands down Castiel’s body, sliding them under Cas’ tank top, admiring the way the muscles tensed under his touch. The man in front ot him was hard as steel, built perfectly, and Dean was sure he died and went to heaven. 

That made Dean’s cock twitch even more in his pants, a the mere thought of Castiel’s naked chest in front of him, glistening with a bit of sweat, and Cas seemed to notice the effect he had on Dean.

He pulled away hesitantly and stood up, making Dean stare at him in confusion, then dropped onto his knees in front of Dean, his fingers finding their way onto the hem of Dean’s jeans.

Dean nodded, afraid that the words might fail him, and Cas popped the button open, then unzipped the jeans, sliding them down a bit with Dean’s help. Cas hooked his fingers in the hem of Dean’s tented boxers and slid them down as well, revealing Dean’s cock standing hard and proud.

Dean groaned as Castiel licked his length slowly, from the base to the tip, then enveloped the tip with his tongue, letting the ring rest against the smooth skin. He wrapped his hand around the base and opened his mouth, slowly pushing Dean’s cock inside, while maintaining eye contact with Dean.

It wouldn’t be a lie if Dean were to say that it was the hottest view he ever had in front of his eyes.

Castiel’s mouth was wet and hot and perfect around him, those full lips wrapped around his cock, his mouth being stretched around Dean’s length so beautifully Dean swore he might’ve come from the sight alone.

“Aren’t you an innocent little angel,” Dean teased and Cas smirked against his length, the baby blues boring into him.

But, then, Cas began bobbing his head up and down, his pierced tongue grazing Dean’s velvety-smooth skin, swirling around messily, making Dean unable to respond in any other way than by moaning, groaning or cursing.

A trickle of spit ran down Cas’ chin, but he didn’t seem to mind, hollowing his cheeks around Dean and pushing him deeper, to the point that Dean’s tip grazed the back of his throat, making him gag slightly. 

He pulled away to take a breath, letting out snarky, “A fallen angel fits better,” then repeated the movement, pushing even further. Dean felt himself getting closer to the edge, his hands finding their way onto Castiel’s dark, spiked hair. He tugged on them lightly, then harder, when he heard Cas moan at the action, the vibrations making his cock throb in Castiel’s mouth.

“Come on, angel. You can get more dirty than this,” Dean growled, being cut off, as Castiel picked up his pace, swallowing around Dean’s length strongly. The ring on his tongue flicked against Dean’s tip every time he pulled away a bit, eventually making Dean spill down his throat.

Cas swallowed as much as he could, the excess come running down his chin as he released Dean’s cock out of his mouth. He wiped it with his right hand and Dean pulled him in for a kiss, moaning at the taste of him combined with Castiel’s minty sweetness.

“Was that dirty enough for your liking?” Cas let out as they pulled away, breathing heavily.

“Yeah,” Dean responded, smiling sheepishly, “now, let me see those wings,” he added, tugging at the hem of Castiel’s tank top and Cas seemed to take the hint, pulling the piece of clothing over his head and tossing it somewhere onto the floor.

Before he turned around, however, Dean spotted a tattoo on the left side of his body, on the ribs. It was a tree with a noose and a quote right beside it, the letters slim and sophisticated, but not overdone.

The letters were saying: “Freedom is a length of rope and God wants you to hang yourself with it,” and Dean couldn’t help but chuckle at the sweet irony.

“What?” Castiel asked, licking his lips.

“Nothing. You’re extraordinary, that’s all,” Dean whispered, at loss of words, his fingertips trailing the edges of the tree, Castiel’s muscles tensing under his touch. Without a warning, Cas turned around, presenting to Dean his tattooed back and Dean just stood there, staring at the masterpiece in awe, having no idea what to say.

The wings were taking up almost all the skin. They were spread widely, the feathers blue and silver, done with so much detail they seemed like they were real. Dean couldn’t help but put his fingers on the top of the wings, just to be certain it was only a tattoo.

“They’re incredible,” Dean said and Castiel turned around, a wide grin on his face.

“Thank you,” Cas responded, his hands finding their way onto Dean’s neck, “what now?” He asked, pulling Dean closer.

“Show me heaven, angel,” Dean said, smirking.  
  



End file.
